


To All the Telepaths in the Room

by Sam4265



Category: X-Men (Movieverse), X-Men - All Media Types, X-Men: First Class (2011) - Fandom
Genre: Alternate Universe - Coffee Shops & Cafés, Charles Xavier has a Ph.D in Adorable, Erik Logic Is The Best Logic, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-18
Updated: 2018-11-18
Packaged: 2019-08-25 16:38:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,356
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16664368
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sam4265/pseuds/Sam4265
Summary: Erik thought suddenly that if there were any telepaths in the room they would have heard his vivid and incredibly risque fantasy, and were probably appropriately scandalized. And Erik, definitely not in his right mind, suddenly felt the need to apologize.Oh my god, to all the telepaths in the room, I’m so sorry.





	To All the Telepaths in the Room

Erik was having one of those days where everything seemed to go wrong. He’d accidentally crushed his alarm clock with his powers while still half asleep, and as a result had gotten up nearly thirty minutes later than his usual five o’clock on the dot. Then his water heater had broken and he’d had to take a cold shower. Then he hadn’t had time for breakfast, so he’d been stuck with only coffee. Only all he had left was the cheap english coffee Emma had sent him as a joke from her last trip to London. 

After choking down a cup of coffee that tasted remarkably like burnt water for something with such dark grounds, Erik had stumbled his way out of his apartment in quite possibly his most wrinkled suit, and with his hair not nearly as rigidly perfect as he preferred. 

He gotten through the first half of the day at his construction company with only a few minor catastrophes, and one unfortunate incident involving the copier, an exploding cartridge of ink, and the sacrifice of his favorite tie to the tie gods. 

By noon he was so exhausted he was considering just taking off work for the rest of the day and going back to sleep. Only he’d gotten too much sleep already, which was part of his problem to begin with, so he’d decided to go to the coffee shop down the road instead. He needed real coffee, not whatever crap Emma had sent him, and he certainly wasn’t going to get it from the office break room. So instead he turned left out of his building, and walked a block to  _ Grinds, _ a shop with an unfortunate name, but a halfway decent cup of coffee. 

He walked inside doing his best not to trip on his own feet, and made a beeline for the barista.

“One large black coffee, no sugar, no milk,” Erik growled at the five foot nothing pigtailed blonde in the bright orange apron. She nodded once and rang him up.

“Three dollars please, and you’re name is?” she asked. Erik forked over exactly three dollar bills.

“Erik,” he said, and moved along before she could ask him if it ended with a “c” or a “k.”

He made his way to the other end of the counter to wait only to be greeted by the sight of a very attractive man in a sweater vest waiting for his drink as well. He was so short he just about reached Erik’s chin. His eyes were the kind of blue that made some people wax poetic about oceans and clear skies and the feathers of blue birds. Of course, Erik just thought they happened to look incredibly like the blue of the blueprints for his latest building, but that was neither here nor there. 

The man had freckles, too, dozens of them scattered across a petite pale nose. Erik caught himself counting them, and shook his head to clear it. He blinked a few times and forced himself to look away before the man caught him. 

His mind wandered back to how he’d left his bed rumpled and unmade that morning. He began to wonder what the man would look like similarly rumpled, maybe even in that very same bed. Erik imagined pulling the ridiculous burgundy sweater vest off of him and divesting him of the white shirt underneath so he could really begin to count those freckles. Erik idly began to wonder if the man had freckles on his ass too. Erik snuck a peek at said ass and found himself pleased to add another asset to his fantasy. He imagined smacking that plump ass red, and spreading his cheeks to get a peek at that furled pink hole. Erik imagined the noises the man would make as he ate him out, probably some high whines and deep, guttural moans. 

Erik could imagine pushing in hard and fast, slamming into him over and over until he was screaming Erik’s name, his little white hands fisted in the bed sheets as he tried to hold himself up against Erik’s brutal thrusts. 

A woman to Erik’s left stole a glance at him, and Erik had a sudden and very terrifying thought. 

Now, let it be said that Erik, due to a serious lack of caffeine, as well as the involuntary participation in several grueling morning meetings, was absolutely operating at half capacity, and as a result he was very much not in his right mind when he thought what he thought next. 

Erik, under the influence of these things, thought suddenly that if there were any telepaths in the room they would have heard his vivid and incredibly risque fantasy, and were probably appropriately scandalized. And Erik, definitely not in his right mind, suddenly felt the need to apologize. 

_ Oh my god, to all the telepaths in the room, I’m so sorry. _ He thought with a sort of mind numbing embarrassment. The man he’d been fantasising about turned suddenly to him. 

_ Well that’s very kind of you, only I’m afraid I have no idea what you’re talking about. _

And Erik had been stupid enough to think his day couldn’t get any worse. 

He was very suddenly at a loss for words and sputtered out loud a bit before he thought,  _ You know, the sex thing. _

The man raised a very pointed eyebrow.

_ The sex thing? _

_ Yeah, _ and Erik’s utterly useless brain conjured up the image, if only for a moment, of the man in question writhing in Erik’s sheets as Erik fucked him good and hard. 

The other eyebrow shot up to join the first, and Erik turned the same deep shade of violent red as the man’s sweater vest. 

“Charles!” A second barista called out as she put a cup of cinnamon spiced sugar coffee covered in an unhealthy dose of whipped cream down between them. The man, Charles apparently, grabbed hesitantly at the cup, and stared at the appropriately sized straws, which were on Erik’s side of the counter. Erik cleared his throat uncomfortably, and handed him one. 

“Thank you,” Charles said. Erik nodded. 

“Eric!” The barista called out, and sure enough there was the “c” at the end of the word. Erik sighed, forgetting the situation for a moment, and said, “They just never spell my name right.” 

Charles chuckled lightly. 

“Is it with a ‘k?’” He asked. Erik nodded, once again very embarrassed. 

“Look, I’m really sorry about the-” he motioned to his head, and Charles shook his head with a smile. 

“Don’t worry, it happens all the time, and usually the people fantasising about me aren’t quite so handsome, either.”

It took Erik a lot longer than he was proud of to understand that Charles was flirting with him. 

“Oh! Right, well, thanks,” Erik stuttered out. Charles’ eyebrows creased together above his nose, and Erik, utterly embarrassed, took a long sip from his still scalding hot coffee. He swallowed around the burning in his throat while Charles looked on, eyes wide. The introduction of proper caffeine into his system brought Erik’s brain back online, and he very suddenly understood the gravity of the situation. 

“I’m Erik Lehnsherr, sorry about all this nonsense, would you like to join me for coffee?” He said, all at once. Charles’ face split into a blindingly beautiful smile. 

“Absolutely my friend. You must tell me all about the blueprints you keep comparing to my eyes!” 

Erik felt heat climb up the back of his neck. Charles linked his arm in Erik’s and guided him to an empty table at the back of the shop.

“Then I can tell you all about how telepaths don’t listen to every thought everyone has at all times, and how I had absolutely no idea what you were talking about until you explained it to me in really quite attractively vivid detail,” Charles continued. Erik could hear a sudden ringing in his ears and took another massive gulp of tongue melting coffee. 

“You really must stop doing that, darling. We can hardly put that tongue of yours to good use if it’s burned, can we?”

**Author's Note:**

> Who else has done this? Because I absolutely have.


End file.
